To My Children

Dear Morgan, Troy and Shelby,

Over a year ago you heard me read aloud a Valentines Day letter I wrote for Grandpa. It was filled with love, pride and reflected on his wonderful life and how it felt to be his daughter, experiencing and growing up with his “legacy of love.” I read the letter with a voice of confidence and felt as though I was bragging about him as I did so. The audience was filled with his admirers: coaches, players, co-workers, friends, grandchildren, children and his wife (my mom, your grandma). As you know, I read the letter at his Memorial service, which was hopefully a loving tribute to him and a celebration of his life.

For years I have thought of myself as a writer. I write because I have to write. These days I mostly write to you, about you, and “for” you (your schools, coaches, teachers, and more). I write about my mistakes, and truthfully there are many. I write from my heart, and all matters related to it (but none quite as great as the three of you). Simply stated, I write about my life. I am a daughter, sister, mom and lover (when the stars have aligned). But mostly, I write because I have this sense of needing to tell my story.

And so that brings me to where I sit today; the need to share my own “Legacy of Love” to you. I will write, assemble and organize my imperfect life in story form for you. I’m sure it will include bragging, celebrating, tears and triumph. But of this you can be sure, it will not be pretty, but it will be real. I love you three so much, I really truly do. Here are my stories for you.